


A Fool For Love

by SoldierOfMyShadowyMind



Category: Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Friends as Family, Friendship, Heartbreak, Hurt Benji, Hurt Ethan, Jealousy, Love, M/M, Pining, Post-Mission: Impossible – Fallout, Team as Family, Trauma, Unrequited Love, it's not entirely hopeless, minor spoilers for Mission: Impossible – Fallout
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-10-03
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:28:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16180736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoldierOfMyShadowyMind/pseuds/SoldierOfMyShadowyMind
Summary: He’s long since waved the white flag, surrendered himself to a love that time won’t dim, won’t quench. It’s not so bad most of the time but right now, drawing the blanket that little bit tighter around his shoulders, Benji feels unthinkably lonely.It’s still the same, miserably empty apartment and the newspaper on the coffee table dates back a couple of weeks.





	A Fool For Love

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t know what this is. I’ve been feeling awful these past few days and decided to channel my misery into writing fic so this is what you get: pining and unrequited love. I’m not fully happy with the ending but I think this is as good as it’ll get.

When Benji opens his eyes and looks straight into Ilsa’s he knows Ethan made it. And more importantly, he knows Ethan is alive.

It’s all that counts at this point and not because Ethan being alive is a vital variable in their brazen equation, the one variable they can’t control. It doesn’t matter that Ilsa’s eyes are trembling with something beyond relief, a softness that outshines the hard edge in them, curiously mixed with a vicious kind of satisfaction. It doesn’t matter that Benji is feeling all these same things. It doesn’t matter that his heart is pounding against his ribs as if he needed the reminder that he, too, is alive. It doesn’t matter that he almost died, again. It doesn’t matter that it was closer this time than he’ll care to admit and it really doesn’t matter that Benji has looked Ethan in the eyes and said, countless times, “Why am I still working with you?”

They beat Lane. Again.

Benji feels something settle in his chest. Ethan is alive.

 

When Benji opens his eyes in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat and heart racing, he sneaks outside and rushes across the camp, to the tent where Ethan sleeps.

Watching him calms Benji and his never quiet mind. It’s too loud inside his own head sometimes and Ethan’s presence helps to shut up the voices and drown out the noise. Luther says it’s self-deceit but the way Benji sees it, Ethan saved his life. Lane gave Ethan a choice but Ethan doesn’t take half when he can get the whole. Luther says Benji’s blowing it horribly out of proportion but the way Benji sees it, Ethan played Lane and saved Benji’s life in what must have been the grandest, most monumental rescue mission in the history of the IMF if their existence ever made it into the history books. He kidnapped the Prime Minister of Great Britain, after all.

It’s just that tiny bit terrifying to see Ethan there, bruised and battered, beaten to within an inch of his life. Benji doesn’t want to know what happened, he doesn’t think he can take it, yet he derives a cruel sense of satisfaction from the knowledge that Walker is dead.

Moving closer Benji sits on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb Ethan. It’s an exquisite form of torture that he’s putting himself through here but the calm sense of security that he feels when he looks at Ethan’s peaceful face trumps the painful ache in his heart.

It’s the wee hours of the morning and Benji keeps his hands to himself.

 

When Benji closes his eyes he promises to himself it’s just for a moment, he’ll get up in a minute and go back to his own bed.

The chair isn’t comfortable but his head is pillowed nicely on the sheets, just out of reach of Ethan’s hand. It’s quiet and Benji’s wearing a thick jacket that keeps him warm and for the first time since this whole fiasco started, his mind feels at ease. The skittish animal that has been galloping around his head, through his veins, slows and settles, bowing its head. Benji lets the minute pass and allows himself to dream.

The touch that wakes him is unexpected but pleasant, a gentle repetitive motion, and he thinks, foggily and sleep-softened, that it doesn’t hurt to indulge it for a little while.

Then his mind catches up, his eyes snap open and he sits up, ramrod straight.

Ethan is smiling at him, his hand still incriminatingly close. Benji gapes at him, looks down at himself, spins around to glimpse at the tent’s entrance and has his creeping suspicions confirmed.

It’s morning.

“Hey” Ethan says and Benji’s heart splinters off another piece.

 

When Benji opens his eyes and sees Ethan shuffle into the tent where they’d set up cots for Benji and Ilsa and Luther – it’s all temporary, they’ll be going home soon – he gets up immediately and his first thought is to admonish Ethan for walking around on his own, he should be in bed, he should be recovering, healing. Benji needs him _healed_.

But then he catches the look in Ethan’s eyes and his heart sinks. The expression is all too familiar, Benji recognises it as the same that Will used to wear whenever he looked at Ethan during – and after – their first mission together, a tiny glint of it showing through his schooled, calculated exterior. Benji can feel the pain physically before he detects it in Ethan’s eyes, a hurting sort of regret that comes with the knowledge of failure. It’s guilt Ethan feels for something he didn’t do.

And that’s precisely the point.

“I promised I would protect you.” Ethan’s voice is heavy even though it’s barely more than a whisper and Benji can feel the weight Ethan carries on his shoulders.

He reaches out to take some of it away. “You did.”

Again, it’s true. Luther might say all sorts of things – and he will, once this is over – but no one can convince Benji otherwise.  “You protected us all.”

Ethan shakes his head and there’s so much _sorrow_ in his eyes, Benji has to look away. He can’t bear to see his friend like this. This is not a look Ethan should ever wear, he doesn’t deserve having to feel this way.

“I promised to never let anything happen to you.”

Benji suspects Ilsa told him. He doesn’t blame her, it was only a matter of time until Ethan found out.

“I promised and did the exact opposite. I put your life in danger! I promised and I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

_You’re always there when I need you_ , is what Benji doesn’t say. _Almost always_ , is what he doesn’t admit to himself.

What he says is: “What you did, Ethan, was more than that. Look around. Look at where we are, look at Ilsa, at Luther, at _Julia._ Look at me, Ethan. I’m okay. I’m alive and I have you to thank for that. Because you did what you promised, you protected me. I never thought you’d ever not. Not for a second.”

Ethan meets his gaze and Benji tries to hold it, he does. But the grief he sees in Ethan’s eyes is just too overwhelming and Benji desperately tries to understand what he did wrong, what he said – or didn’t say – to fail in making that unbearable sorrow go away.

His heart stops.

What if Ethan _knows?_ And all the time he said those words, he meant more? _I promised to protect you. From me._

But then Ethan buries his head in his hands and Benji realises there wasn’t any pity in his gaze, only regret. He can breathe again. Ethan doesn’t know and he never will. Benji might never get what he wants but he can give Ethan what he needs. So he scoots closer, puts a hand on his arm, a friendly gesture of comfort. If he tries hard enough, maybe Ethan will smile and Benji will count it as a win.

“Ethan, I trust you. Whatever you do, you do for some sort of twisted, foolhardy reason but you always have a purpose. Your actions are always born from loyalty. And whatever you do, whatever you did, you never hurt me.” Benji allows himself the half lie where the truth is better kept locked away, acknowledged in the privacy of his own mind. It’d only hurt Ethan. “I trust you” he repeats, sincere, emphasising every word.

“Maybe that’s the problem.”

_No, it’s the only thing that keeps me going. That lets me hold on._

“Ethan, are you really that dense?” Who says just because you’re in ill-fated love with your best friend you can’t be exasperated with him?

The way Benji sees it, Ethan has helped him heal after the first episode with Lane and he’s going to be there for this one, too.

 

When Benji tries to keep his eyes open – it’s been a long, tiring day, full of phone calls, unnecessarily prolonged and stretched tight with tension, cleaning up messes and pointing fingers, and travel arrangements, and he can feel the fatigue down to his very bones – he, almost by accident, catches Ethan looking at him and he stills. It’s late, the sun’s casting an orange glow over the village and the air is crisp and clear. The view could be called beautiful, Benji supposes.

_His_ view is beautiful, there’s no doubt about it. Ethan has a fond smile on his lips, and it’s small but to Benji it’s brighter than the sun on its most powerful day. And it’s only for him.

Ethan saunters over to him and puts a gentle hand on his shoulder. Benji feels its weight down to his toes and it wakes him up again, his skin tingling through the layers of wool.

“You look terrible” Ethan says and he’s laughing. Benji knows he’s right so he doesn’t take offence.

“In my defence, I’ve been talking to Washington all day, you manage to look even worse than I do just by lying around.”

That cracks them both up and they’re laughing and Benji feels so light. It’s easy, to joke with Ethan, to talk with him, to generally be around him. And right now Benji’s got him all to himself. His heart swells as he meets Ethan’s gaze, full and filled with genuine joy.

 

When Benji closes his eyes and listens to Will talk, his voice tinny and frighteningly hollow over the phone, he hates himself for forgetting about Will.

The feeling is as fierce and sharp as the longing on dark, lonely nights and it stabs him straight through the heart. He has no right, no right whatsoever, to want what he wants. The object of his affection isn’t his to have, it never was. It’s Will’s, and rightfully so. Will and Ethan share so much, their history is _significant._ And they are perfect together, Benji would tell anyone who’d listen how good they are for each other. Ethan helped Will back on his feet and Will took that lost look out of Ethan’s eyes. Benji doesn’t know much about true love, he’s been carrying his own silently for years, but when he looks at them and what they have he can witness it. It’s hard not to be happy for them.

Benji tries, every time, to tell himself that this is it, but he knows better. His thoughts never end there. They take him back to a time when there was no Will, when it was just Ethan and Luther and him. Benji revels in it and endures the guilt for a while before it becomes too much. Even then, Ethan was never his. Luther says it’s pathetic but hope is hard to kill. Benji’s always known his love and pain went hand in hand and for a while he thinks he’s grown used to it. Until he sees Ethan kiss Will tenderly, affection in his eyes that goes just that mile deeper than that he carries for Benji.

Benji would never hurt his friend. He loves Will too much to do this to him.

He loves Ethan too desperately to cause him pain.

In a twisted, unhealthy way, Benji lives off of the happiness that Will brings Ethan. Luther says it’s dangerous.

 

When Will meets them at the airport back in the States, dark shadows under his eyes and his skin too pale, his frame too thin, when Ethan drops his bag and strides over to him to gather him to his chest and not let go for several minutes, Benji has to look away. It’s paltry, pitiful, but he has to do _something_ to keep the pieces of his heart glued together. Some days he’s holding up pretty well – they’re a family, they care for each other, they know each other inside out – but it’s these emotional moments that he can’t handle. Too much to witness, too much to feel, too many possibilities to misstep. His stomach ties itself into knots and Benji’s heart is screaming at him that it should be him holding onto Ethan like a lifeline.

No, he tells the traitorous thing, everything is as it’s supposed to be.

He does hold onto Ethan, though, he’s always been his lifeline.

Some days he wants nothing more than to be angry at Will, at the world, but he doesn’t have the heart to be. Instead, he’s angry at himself but that doesn’t help either.

When Benji looks up and meets Ilsa’s knowing gaze, he sees his own neglected, beaten feelings mirrored in hers and he feels gut-punched. Of course he couldn’t fall for someone less out of reach, someone less coveted by women, men, governments, and the criminal underworld alike. But when you know Ethan Hunt, and when you have the honour of calling him your best friend, nothing compares.

His cravings have never been his own.

 

When Benji opened his life and his heart to Ethan Hunt all those years ago, he didn’t know Ethan would never be his.

Luther called it _hero worship_ , intoned with his own brand of affectionate disapproval, and it’s been a long time since Benji has blushed at this thought. Ethan has been many things for him, his idol, his reason to get a grip on his life and believe in himself more, one of his numerous crushes. But out of all of those things Ethan has always been, first and foremost, his friend. What did it matter that he carried a bit of a torch for his friend, charming, handsome, mesmerising? Luther used to say it was cute, now he just looks at Benji with that mix of compassion and warning in his eyes. Benji has tried to pinpoint the exact moment when his admiration turned to love but the transition has been terrifyingly fluid and Benji was falling before he had even realised he’d stumbled. He stammered his way through the years, pining from afar or from much too close. He never lost faith, too good-natured to despair or capitulate.

Perhaps his dedication to Ethan is flawed, his devotion too limitless, but it feels good loving someone. It feels like having a purpose.

Luther says he’s a hopeless case.

 

When Benji opens the door to his flat it’s like looking through a window into another person’s life. It’s clear that someone lives here, has dedicated some thought – however quirky and quaint – to the arrangement and composition of things. What should feel comfortable and homely, though, feels foreign and distinctly empty. As if the owner of this snug little place left to buy groceries and the apartment’s waiting for their return. The whole picture has an oddly frozen, suspended quality to it. It makes Benji feel as if he knocked on the wrong door. He shakes his head to get rid of the sudden, overpowering sense of suffocation and lets the door fall shut behind him. It’s the same as last time he came home, the imminent fear of death still clinging to his clothes. It was too close this time.

Day is groggily extending its tendrils through the receding night, basking everything in a greyish-orange glow.

Benji goes through the motions of coming home on autopilot, deposits his bag in the bedroom, hangs his coat and discards his shoes by the door. He makes tea more out of habit than desire. The mug moves with him to the living room sofa and the slowly rising steam finally makes Benji feel more human. This is when he allows his mind to wander, at last, glancing out the window, watching the city as it wakes up. The clock blinks 5.30am at him but the weariness he feels cannot be remedied by sleep. It doesn’t bother him at the moment, though, he just sits, a blanket draped around his shoulders, sipping his tea. Watching the early birds on the streets bears a calmness that Benji welcomes.

His thoughts don’t take him back to Kashmir; they follow Ethan home where he must be now with Will. Ethan will be too wound up to sleep, he always is after missions. Maybe he and Will are sitting on their couch, too, leaning against each other, simply enjoying each other’s presence. Benji snuggles a little further into his blanket.

It’s not as if he hasn’t tried to get over it. But once a crush manifests itself it’s hard to ignore and Benji knows he was doomed the moment he called it love. Love bears a certain grandeur that’s a kind of happiness all in itself. Once the first shock of revelation has worn off it leaves an uncontrollable giddiness and excitement. The experience of emotions is extreme, heightened, like over-sensitive skin to the slightest touch. Benji’s been there, on top of the world with just a smile, and down in the dumps with a mumbled apology thrown his way, leaving him standing empty-handed in the doorway.

Love burns bright but the flames are hot and Benji’s burned his hands one too many times. Jane – she figured him out with a single look and Benji wasn’t even surprised – tried her best to get him out there more, but Benji is too faithful for his own good. When he commits himself to something – to someone – he’s devoted, ardent. He doesn’t stray. It makes getting over Ethan a lot harder. He used to think that maybe he doesn’t want to get over him – by now it’s a certainty. He’s long since waved the white flag, surrendered himself to a love that time won’t dim, won’t quench. It’s not so bad most of the time but right now, drawing the blanket that little bit tighter around his shoulders, Benji feels unthinkably lonely.

He doesn’t even need to pretend to still feel Ethan’s arms around him from when his friend had hugged him goodbye at the airport. His touch lingers, even after hours. The ache in his tired heart flares up weakly.

The last few weeks have been intense, allowing Benji to imagine, to give himself over to an illusion he knew would shatter the moment he returned to the solitude of his flat. But who could blame him, in all honesty? They’ve been in each other’s personal space for days on end, it was bound to take a toll on Benji. These constant ups and downs, Ethan’s very own _intensity_ play vicious games with his poor feelings but over the years his heart has gotten too weak to put up a fight. Acceptance doesn’t mean it doesn’t still hurt – and how it hurts, the knowledge that he just has to reach out and his fingers would touch. He’d burn himself, again, and Benji knows this particular pain isn’t worth it. But when his mind isn’t occupied the yearning is overwhelmingly strong and it hits him like a wall of bricks every damn time.

On the plane Benji had leaned against Ilsa, knowing she wouldn’t mind, pretending he was falling asleep with his head on Ethan’s shoulder like Will was in the row next to them. Ilsa had shared his longing, making the heartbreak a little easier to bear.

Benji tries to read for a while as the sun rises but the words blur before his eyes and the harder he tries to decipher them, the more dejected he feels. Eventually, his body wins and exhaustion makes him shuffle over to the bedroom where he lies down on the bed, feeling cold under the covers. Sleep doesn’t take pity on him, though, and suddenly his inability to manage so little as to fall asleep crushes him and he can’t hold back the tears anymore. He doesn’t know why he cries but the ache in his scarred heart is too much.

He wishes for so little. And still the world seems to think he wants too much.

The devastated, pleading desperation with which Benji wishes Ethan to be here with him almost tears him apart.

An hour later, Benji finally falls asleep, his pillow hugged tightly to his chest.

 

When Benji bends down to lace his shoes the morning he’s expected back at work his fingers tremble and after the fifth failed attempt he kicks the shoe off and halfway through the room. He stares at it for a moment, fury and anger coursing through his veins, until he looks down at his hands. Trembling. Useless. Not even good enough to tie goddamned _shoelaces_. Benji succumbs to the wave of loathing that hits him, disgust at himself. His shoulders hunch and he slides down the wall to curl up on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest in a feeble attempt at protection, a shield to fend off the rest of that cruel world out there. Outside the rain’s pouring down in heavy tear-shaped drops and Benji feels as if it’s bearing down on him, an endless stream of misery that trickles under his clothes and his skin and he starts shivering even though it’s warm inside.

This is what he gets out of it. Out of his life, his choices, the battles he fought. This is what he gets out of loving Ethan Hunt. Benji doesn’t blame him, never, he wouldn’t think of it. The only one to blame is Benji himself. He kept stacking brick after brick on top of each other, ever higher, but he’s afraid he’s forgotten the cement and now the tower is crumbling and his defences are weak, they’ve never been strong in the first place. The inevitability of it all falling down has always been lurking behind the corner but Benji had fought it as long as he could. He just wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

On the floor, folded up with his arms wrapped around himself like a child, it looks like he should.

He feels like he wants to punch something, destroy something, he feels like he wants to scream. The sheer power of it overwhelms him, surprises him so much he feels backed into a corner by his own volatile mind and suddenly he can’t tell up from down.

He calls Ethan. It feels like defiance.

Ethan has to knock three times before it registers with Benji and he manages to pick himself up off the floor. Then he’s there and he doesn’t ask questions. It’s something he adopted from Will, Benji muses distantly, the ability to just _know_ , the steady presence that gives comfort without asking _why_. The silence isn’t loaded, it’s solace. Benji doesn’t protest when Ethan puts a hand on his back and leads him to the sofa, he doesn’t put up a fight when Ethan sits down next to him and wraps his arms around him. He doesn’t listen when Ethan murmurs soothing words into his ear, he simply concentrates on the familiar warmth of his voice. He doesn’t even have the energy to feel ashamed when sobs shake him, his shoulders quivering and his tears soaking Ethan’s shirt. Ethan just holds him tighter and Benji clings to it with all he’s got. Eventually he relaxes in Ethan’s arms and just stays for a while where he feels safe. The steady thrum of Ethan’s heart under his ear calms him and he regains a sense of himself.

It’s still the same, miserably empty apartment and the newspaper on the coffee table dates back a couple of weeks. Benji’s fingers have stopped trembling, his arms trapped under Ethan’s. It feels good, it feels— it feels like heaven, goddammit, and suddenly Benji is so tired of pretending.

It’s so fucking exhausting putting up a façade every bloody day and even Benji, even kind-hearted, sensitive, loyal _Benji_ isn’t immune to jealousy. And right now it’s burning through him. No one has ever told him why he can’t have this, why it always has to be him that’s there first and gets to choose last. It’s a different kind of fury, a far more devastating one, that grabs a hold of him now and when he turns to look at Ethan – perhaps he’s hoping to find an explanation for the injustice in his friend’s kind eyes – his resolve shatters. In this moment, all the years of practice don’t count for anything and the thin glass walls Benji’s built around himself that give everything away crack wide open with a single one of Ethan’s smiles. And Benji feels as if he tripped up, his desires, all that he _wants_ but can’t have burning with the strength of a thousand suns, so much he feels sick with it. Ethan smiles and his utter obliviousness makes Benji so angry and yet he’s so completely helpless and his heart _aches_. His traitorous, foolish, greedy heart. It aches for Ethan, it aches for a gentle hand to soothe its frantic, erratic rhythm tantalised by fierce longing, it aches, for once, to be special to someone. For once, just for once Benji wants Ethan to himself and the impossibility of it weighs heavier than usual in the colour of Ethan’s eyes that hold deep affection only for his Will.

Julia told him once never to underestimate Ethan’s capacity for love. His heart is big enough to fit two people, an old love never to die down completely and a new one filled with such dedication, such abandon. Ethan’s heart is big enough to fit the whole world, maybe he can make a little room for Benji, too.

Luther would probably call him out on his illusions, pull him back down to harsh reality. Benji doesn’t know what’s worse – reality or torturing himself with deception.

He just isn’t ready to give up just yet.

 

When the wounds heal and Benji can look at himself in the mirror again he finds he can be proud of himself without feeling nothing but derision for his accomplishment. For a long while it had been one step forward, two steps back but he’s started to feel confident in his own skin again. Ethan had him promise to call at least twice a week during their medical leave but as if Benji needed the encouragement. Recovery had been – and still is – a long, rocky road but Benji’s found his step is sure and steady.

When Ethan stops looking at him with that guilty expression in his eyes Benji wants to reach out and touch but instead he just smiles, not quite as lost.

 

When Benji opens the door to Will and sees the heartache in his friend’s eyes he thinks about running. Shutting the door in Will’s face and running as far and as fast as his feet will carry him. He won’t get very far, he concludes, with a knowing, contemptuous sort of disappointment. He knows he doesn’t have to pretend with Will – there is nothing to hide anymore – so Benji doesn’t bother plastering on a grin as he lets Will inside.

Will looks like he wants to say he’s sorry and like he knows, simultaneously, his apology is worth nothing. It’s astonishing how hard it can be to find words in front of a friend when a discovery just spun your world out of its orbit.

Benji makes it easy for him, not out of cruelty. He wants this to be over with as quickly as Will does. He just wants to go back to being friends. Did they stop when he opened the door? “Don’t say it. Just tell me how long.”

Will turns to him from where he’s been standing, frozen, in the doorway to the living-room. It’s clear from the uncertainty in the set of his shoulders, the nervous way he fumbles with his hands, that he doesn’t know how to handle this situation any better than Benji does.

Benji somehow assumed he would.

“How long have I known?” Will asks to clarify.

Benji nods.

“A while.”

Not a week. Not a month. _A while._ Benji knows exactly what Will means. When he meets Will’s eyes he gets all the confirmation he needs. Benji sighs and leans against the wall. He doesn’t want to confront Will, doesn’t want to have to feel more shame than he already carries around. Will won’t yell or shout but he’s not one to barrel right past the awkwardness. Only Ethan has that talent.

Benji decides to cut straight to it. “Does Ethan know?”

Will walks into the living-room, positions himself by the window. “For all he is perceptive and determined, he can be blind to the things around him.”

Benji lets out a self-deprecating laugh as he follows Will. “I know.” He’s always been invisible to Ethan. Will he expected to find out, probably sooner than later. Benji is aware he’s not the best at keeping secrets, subtlety isn’t his strong suit.

“Are you angry at me?”

Will turns around, looks like he wants to reach out. His brows are drawn together in a confused frown. “No, Benji.” He still sounds apologetic.

“You can be” Benji says, and to his own ears he sounds almost encouraging. Maybe that would settle it. “You should be.”

Will shakes his head. “I’m not. And I don’t want to be. Benji, this isn’t something… bad, you don’t have to be—”

“I didn’t mean to” Benji says, interrupting him and then he lets the words flow, maybe, at the end of all of it, warily hoping he’ll arrive at some sort of conclusion. An explanation for the misery he’s gotten himself into, an explanation for Ethan and all his implications and consequences. “It just happened. These things have a way of sneaking up on you.” He huffs, something between amused and bitter. “Or maybe it’s just him. He’s _Ethan_. He draws people in and then he doesn’t let go, he’s _everywhere_. He just takes up your field of vision. And before you know it he takes up all the space in your life.”

Benji collapses onto the sofa, half tripping over his own feet as his mind is somewhere else and he keeps talking, hands flying up and down in fervent gesticulation. “I mean, I’ve known him half my life. Well, that’s an exaggeration but you know what I mean, at some point you simply forget that there was a time when he wasn’t there. It’s not like you can just go out of his way. It’s not something that he does on purpose but he has a habit of getting in your way and planting himself right in the middle of your life. And after a while he takes over your thoughts, too. It’s as if physical presence isn’t enough. It was kind of inevitable, you see, it wasn’t my fault, I didn’t plan on it. Hell, if I knew, I would have jammed on the brakes right away.”

He pauses long enough to take a breath but that’s not all, there so much more. There’s always _more_ with Ethan. “It’s just him. It’s just the way he is. He drives me crazy, you know that?” He says it with emphasis, frowns, smiles, all at once as if he can’t quite decide which expression fits. “And I see him almost every day, what must it be like _living_ with him? He’s just too much, the things he does, the things he says, he’s crazy. And not in a good way sometimes. Running off and risking his life for… for politics. I’d probably go mental, being around him more than I already am.”

Benji shrugs helplessly. “He’s just _too much._ With his charming personality and his winning smiles and his whole perfect being.” It’s a struggling, halting rhythm with the weight he puts on each word, trying to grasp the essence of Ethan. That’s a task for a lifetime, he supposes.

Will tries to cut through his cascade of words but it barely registers with Benji. “And that’s still not enough. Every time he’s – we’re – out there, I think _What if he doesn’t come back this time?_ And I can’t bear the thought of that. Have you ever tried imagining a world without him?”

Another pause, then, “And the thing is, I don’t want to go back to not knowing him.”

When he’s done, Will is silent for a while. He sits down next to Benji on the sofa, a thoughtful expression lining his brow. He’s contemplating Benji’s confession. Then, seemingly out of nowhere, Will huffs out a breath and his mouth quirks up on one side. “He does drive me crazy.”

It’s not the words itself but the way Will says it that, with such fond exasperation, that makes Benji laugh. And then he can’t stop and it feels so goddamn _liberating_ and Will joins in.

“Sometimes I get so angry at him that I wonder if his head’s screwed on straight.” Will continues when they’ve both calmed down again. “I don’t know what it is about him. But for all his craziness he makes you feel that even if nothing else makes sense that _you_ make sense. That your being there in that particular moment makes sense.”

Benji gets it; that is it. That is probably the entire reason, the whole problem. Ethan makes you feel as if nothing else matters, as if you’re the centre of his universe. How is Benji supposed to get over him when every time he looks at Ethan he feels as if he _means_ something, everything?

Of course Will would understand.

“So you’re not angry?”

The sigh Will lets out is monumental. “No, I told you, I’m not. Why would I be? He’s Ethan, he’s all-consuming. I can’t say I’m surprised.” He snorts. “It makes sense, doesn’t it? In all its absurdity.”

Will turns to look at him and his eyes offer so much _understanding_ that Benji doesn’t deserve. Because it might all make sense but they still shouldn’t be here, talking about this. He feels deflated with all those words finally out there. Before, he felt like he was coming apart at the seams. Now, he has an answer to a question he didn’t ask and no idea what to do with it.

“So, what now?” Benji asks, bravely ignoring the look in Will’s eyes.

“Is there something we should do now?”

There is no logical next step, Benji supposes. “Probably not.” He shrugs, small, and leans back against the sofa cushions. “You’ll just go on loving him and he’ll go on loving you and I’ll go on being invisible.”

That makes Will frown and he bodily turns towards him. “You’re not invisible to him. He values you, you mean a lot to him. You’re his friend. Don’t ever think so lowly of yourself, Benji.”

It’s not that. Benji knows all these things. And yet.

“Doesn’t change a thing, does it?” he says, eyes staring up at the ceiling.

Will hums. “No, in the end it doesn’t.”

This is where he arrives at. This is the terminal stop. There are no tracks leading on from here. He can only go back but maybe, Benji thinks, maybe it’s time. Things won’t change but when he considers them, all laid out together, the picture doesn’t look quite so dismal.

“This really only makes sense if you know Ethan, doesn’t it?”

Will chuckles lowly. “Yes.”

There is one last thing, though.

“You won’t tell him, will you?”

“No, of course not.”

 

When Will opens the door and takes the proffered bottle of wine with an appreciative “Thanks” Benji feels the warmth seeping from inside their apartment, emanating from every corner. From the kitchen, he can hear Ethan laughing at something. Of course Ethan is the first thing he notices. It’s impossible not to. Today, Benji finds, it’s not as unbearable and tiring. He smiles at Will, feeling welcome and wanted and steps inside.

This is them, Benji thinks when he looks around. All these people that mean so much to him. Will uncorks the bottle and rolls his eyes fondly when Ethan pecks him on the cheek and murmurs something most likely inappropriate into his ear as he passes by him. Luther grumbles something about the cold as Jane unwraps herself from her coat and endless scarf, looking stunning as always, mocking the winter skies outside. They throw words around the room, talking all over each other like they’ve never done anything else.  This is what he gets out of loving Ethan Hunt. A family.

Ethan appears out of thin air right in front of him and Benji startles but he has barely enough time to regain his balance when Ethan grins and grabs his arm.

“Come with me, I want to show you something.” There’s childlike excitement in his voice and his eyes are sparkling and Benji lets it, lets Ethan, pull him away from the friendly chatter in the kitchen.

Ethan drags him to the bedroom, gestures for him to close the door and walks across the room to rummage through one of the drawers. Benji stays a few feet behind; he knows how it is to be too close to Ethan when he gets like this. Ethan behaves like a boy about to reveal his biggest secret, unable to contain it even a second longer. In his vicinity, it’s easy to get drawn into his spell, participating in his thrill, whole-heartedly enraptured. It’s part of why it’s so hard to tell him no. With a triumphant little sound Ethan produces something out of the drawer but it’s too small for Benji to catch a glimpse. Ethan turns around, his grin so wide it must hurt, and with a flourish holds out his hand.

For a heart-stopping second Benji just stares; then, for a moment ponders making a joke but quickly dismisses the idea. It’d sound lame but more importantly, he wouldn’t be able to pull it off without his voice breaking.

“You want to ask him?” He says instead, heart in his throat but smiling warmly, earnestly.

Ethan nods eagerly, looking unfairly endearing in his boyish enthusiasm, eyes wide and still grinning. “I thought, if not now, when?”

It’s Benji’s turn to nod. “That’s wonderful, Ethan, that’s brilliant.” Staggering, startling, but not truly surprising.

Suddenly Ethan looks sheepish. “Do you think he’ll say yes?”

The sheer stupidity of the question loosens Benji up again and he rolls his eyes extravagantly and, laying as much annoyance as he can muster into his tone, sighs, “Ethan.” _As if anyone would say no to you._

Ethan laughs and all of a sudden Benji notices that his excitement is partly fuelled by nervousness. He can’t pinpoint what Ethan is looking for, approval, encouragement, but in a way, it’s charming. When he looks at Ethan then, eyes crinkling at the corners with mirth and anticipation, dark hair slightly mussed, grinning like a fool, he knows this is how he wants to see him every day. And if Will has the power to bring forth such happiness in him then Benji supposes it must be right.

“You’re good for each other” he says and means it.

Ethan smiles at him, a silent _thank you_ , and tucks the box back into the drawer. Just as he moves to close it something catches Benji’s attention and he puts a hand on Ethan’s arm to stop him. His friend glances at him in surprise but Benji reaches into the drawer and his hand closes around an equally small, delicate object and his heart feels warm. He can feel Ethan watching him closely so Benji opens his loose fist, smiling incredulously at the tiny wooden elephant in his palm.

“I never thought I’d see this again” he muses quietly, a little thrown. Then he turns to face Ethan and sputters, unbelieving but without accusation, “I thought you lost that somewhere between Tokyo and Brazil!”

Ethan chuckles, a little guiltily. “Yeah, me too.” He studies the object for a moment, then adds, “I found it again a couple weeks ago, in the pocket of a jacket I haven’t worn for years. Do you want it back?” he asks gently.

Benji remembers chancing across it during an uneventful mission in the time before Will. He had just passed his field exam and something about the delicate work, the intricate carvings had made him stop at that market stall in a country on the other side of the world. He remembers Ethan snatching it from his desk a few months later – Jane had been on leave, Will now a member of their team – and at Benji’s indignant protest merely throwing him a winning smile and tossing a “For good luck!” into the growing space between them as he sauntered down the hallway towards his next assignment.

Benji shakes his head fondly at the memory. He doesn’t need to consider.

“It’s yours, technically speaking” Ethan is saying.

“No, you keep it.” He meets Ethan’s gaze. “For good luck.”

Ethan’s answering smile is blinding and Benji can see it in the glint of mischief in his eyes that he remembers, too. But there’s affection there, too, and Benji thinks perhaps he did underestimate Ethan’s capacity for love. He realises now that letting go isn’t the same as losing because he gets to keep all of this. It might not be quite enough but it’s a lot and he’s still in the same place. The familiar tingle of joyous excitement that he’s grown so used to when he’s got Ethan’s attention focused on him is still there. Paired with the soft, ever-present ache. It won’t fade for a long time to come but the accompanying emotion is something sweeter now, gentler. Perhaps he needed the finality of knowing that what he wished for was never going to be. In the end it doesn’t matter as long as he can build on it. He’ll always love the paradox that is Ethan Hunt but finally Benji feels a little more like himself again. It still steals his breath when Ethan nudges him in the ribs, breaking into his thoughts. But when Benji follows him to rejoin the others he finds he can breathe freely again.

He starts stacking the bricks again but this time, he doesn’t build a tower. He builds a house.

As the evening winds down he finds himself sitting on the sofa with Will, both of them warmed by wine, cheerfully trading stories about Ethan who’s loudly debating with Luther in the kitchen, gesticulating wildly.

It’s easy to fall back into old routines.

Benji finally gives up.

Luther cautiously calls it progress.

 

When Ethan asks him to join his team for another mission Benji doesn’t hesitate for a second before he says yes. There is no point in trying to fool himself, negotiate his way around the truth. He’ll follow Ethan to the end of the world, go through hell and back for him – and he did, he went through hell and he isn’t sure if he came back in one piece, glued together the right way, all of the fragments accounted for. But even if not Ethan will always be there to put him back together. It’s all right as long as he can have this and he is still himself, he is still his own, he is still Ethan’s. And Ethan loves Will and their happiness warms Benji on cold days. Ethan loves Benji, too, a different kind of love but Benji has a place in Ethan’s heart, a piece of it all to himself, and he’s happy. He keeps on loving Ethan. He finds ways to be close to Ethan. Mostly, he simply keeps following him wherever Ethan leads. The world goes on around him, never noticing him enough to care. Benji continues to be a fool, hopelessly, devastatingly in love with his best friend.

**Author's Note:**

> Tell me what you think?


End file.
